


never let me go

by eroticgropefest (goldfishsunglasses)



Series: better than fighting [4]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: First Time, M/M, Nightmares, Smut, and stupidly in love, awkward boyfriends are awkward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 14:58:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8537515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldfishsunglasses/pseuds/eroticgropefest
Summary: Simon and Baz's first time





	

**Baz**

_I can’t breathe. Something has stolen the air from my lungs and I feel like I’m drowning. I think I_ _**am** drowning. I’m underwater, and I can make out the faint shapes of my family up ahead. They’re in the water with me. And there’s Bunce. And Wellbelove. And Fiona. And...and Simon. They’re drowning, but I can’t help them, because I’m drowning too. I can’t breathe. I can’t…_

I wake up, and I still can’t breathe. My vision is red and I realize Simon’s wing is covering my face. He usually keeps them tucked in when he sleeps, and this only happens when he’s having a particularly bad nightmare. I dodge the other wing as he thrashes around, rolling over to my side of the bed. I have no idea how he’s staying asleep through all of this, and my heart breaks knowing what must be going on in his head right now.

I’m debating whether or not I should wake him, when he lets out a strangled yell, and sits up. His chest is heaving, and his eyes are still closed. At first I think he’s still asleep, but then he reaches for my hand. I take his and squeeze, a silent reminder that I’m here, that I’ll always be here. Eventually his breathing slows, and he retracts his wings. I open my arms, and Simon’s climbing into my lap. He clutches at me and I rub soothing circles on his lower back, murmuring “It’s okay, love. I’ve got you. It’s okay.” He’s shaking, and my heart breaks a little bit more.

He’s still shaking as he sits up and straddles me, his knees on either side of my thighs, and he's pushing me against the headboard. Simon’s hand comes up to touch my cheek, and then he’s kissing me. Softly at first, almost like a question. I answer with my tongue, and he relaxes against me. We kiss for a few minutes, until Simon starts to move. He’s grinding against me and it feels amazing and I never want to to stop. There’s a sort of desperation in his motions. It makes me shiver. Circe, it’s so fucking hot. His face is buried in my neck and his cock is sliding alongside mine. The first few times that’s happened it was never long enough for me to really focus on the sensation, but now...

Fuck, I think I’m about to come.

“Simon.” I say. _“Simon.”_ Something in my tone must get his attention because he stops, and it’s both a relief and a torture.

“Are you sure, love?”

He nods, and I get it. I understand better now, after hearing him talk about it. He wanted to make the choice, he _needed_ to make the choice. After years of being controlled, having that freedom must be frightening. I know it is for me. And I know (and am still learning) how hard it is for Simon to admit those things. But now I understand his side, and he understands mine. I want to give him everything he never had, everything _I_ never had. All of it is his, and all of _me_ is his.

If I’m honest, I expected my first time to be more magical. No, not Magickal. Magical. Special. Maybe not rose petals and champagne, but there should at least be music playing.

As if reading my mind, Simon climbs off me and reaches for his phone.

“Any requests?”

“You choose.”

He picks a Florence+The Machine song. The opening strains fill the room and he smiles. I’m so glad to see him smiling. He doesn’t do that nearly enough, and it’s a beautiful sight. He’s gorgeous in the lamplight. He’s gorgeous all the time. I feel a hand on mine, and realize he’s talking.

“--do this.” He says.

“Huh?”

“How are we going to do this?” He repeats, starting to look nervous now.

“Oh...I--I want you...I want you to…” I can’t finish the sentence, but he seems to understand. He always seems to understand what I’m trying to say.

I don’t even get the satisfaction of undressing him. Not that a naked Simon isn’t a wonderful sight, but this isn’t happening like I imagined it _at all._

Then again, nothing in our relationship has.

Simon leans in to kiss me, and I expect him to close his eyes.

He doesn’t.

I push him away gently, and open the drawer next to my bed. I can feel my hand shaking as I pick up the bottle. The one that’s been sitting in there for months, waiting for this moment. It’s not that I haven’t used it (I’ve used it plenty), just never in front of Simon.

I take a deep breath and squeeze some onto my fingers. I look up to see Simon staring at me, mouth gaping. It would be more unnerving if the expression his face wasn’t so bloody hot.

 

**Simon**

“You--you’ve...you’ve done that before?” I manage to stammer out.

Baz nods, and flushes slightly. I must be staring too hard, he only does that when I’m being “intense” (his words). I can’t help it though, the mental image of him doing that is hot, hotter than I imagined it would be during my online searches.

Baz sticks a finger up his arse and my stomach lurches. In a good way. In a very good way. The look on his face is...Crowley I wish I was better with words. Eventually he manages to get 3 fingers up _there_ , and I feel my dick twitch in anticipation.

“Can I put it in now?” I try not to sound as desperate as I feel.

“Ever the romantic, you are.”

“Fuck romance.”

“Funny, I thought you wanted to fuck _me_.”

“Shut up, just shut up, just--oh, _Christ. Baz…_ ”

I stop kissing him for a moment, half because his mouth has gone slack, and half because it hits me that I’m about to stick my dick in Baz’s arse.

I grab the base, and start to guide it in.

And then my brain stops working.

 

**Baz**

I wince. The stretch is painful, but he slowly inches in and this is happening.

This is really happening.

Simon’s making these little wounded animal noises. Wait, no, that’s weird. He’s whining? He’s making sex noises. Simon’s making sex noises and it’s so hot. Simon’s making sex noises because we’re having sex and _focus, Baz._

 

**Simon**

Baz’s hair is tangled. It’s my fault, I can’t stop running my fingers through it every chance I get. He never seems to mind, even when he’s scolding me for it. I can tell he isn’t serious, he’s just being Baz. He leans back onto the pillow, and his hair fans out a bit. It looks even blacker against the white pillowcase. It makes him look even paler, which makes the faint blush of his cheeks stand out more. Merlin, he’s beautiful. I want to tell him, let him know exactly how gorgeous he looks right now, but all that comes out is a mumbled “you’re so fit, you’re so fucking fit”. I don’t miss the smirk on his face, or the way his eyes go soft at the compliment.

“Thanks, you’re not too bad yourself.”

I want to kiss that smirk away. So I do.

Baz has got a hand wrapped around his dick, jerking it quickly and it’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. I add it to the list of things I want to see Baz do again. Along with fingering himself. Maybe at the same time. Oh, _Crowley_. Is that even possible? Why am I even thinking about this when Baz is underneath me, panting and writhing (is that the right word? because whatever he’s doing looks a lot like writhing.)

The song ends, and the four second pause fills the room with the sound of skin slapping skin. The next song begins, but I’m too focused on the other noises. My hips hitting his thighs, the mattress squeaking every time I push forward, and the little grunts escaping from Baz’s mouth. He’s biting his lip so hard it’s almost white. I want to hear him, I want to know how much he’s enjoying this so I lean down to kiss him, making sure to open his mouth with my tongue (which is harder than you’d think) and _oh_ , now he’s kissing me back, and those little noises are muffled but he doesn’t stop making them until I thrust particularly hard and he stops breathing altogether.

For a moment, it feels like my magic is back.

 

**Baz**

Simon’s grip on my hips tightens, and I want to tell him _“harder”_ , but my voice isn’t working.

I can barely even say his name.

He’s a vision above me. His wings are outstretched, and he looks magnificent. Bronze curls plastered to his forehead, blue eyes clouded with lust, and he’s coming inside me.

Nothing compares to this feeling, not even Magick.

Simon’s staring at me too hard again.

“Was that--I mean was I--no, wait...was that--did you...did you like it?” He sounds uncertain, and I want to grab his face and kiss him all over. Before I can, he’s rolling off me. His cock slips out, and it feels weird. Weird, and just a little bit gross, but I expected that. I’m not expecting what Simon says next.

“Thank you.” It comes out as a whisper.

“For the sex?”

“For being there--here...for being--” He pauses. “I love you.”

“And I love you.” I say, because I do, because I have for so long. And he won’t let me forget it.

“So, are those fifth-year fantasies satisfied?”

Apparently even now.

“Almost,” I say, “we might have to do this again to make sure.”

He laughs, and the sound is so wonderful that I pull him close, ignoring the sweat and the come between us. I could spell it away, but it would ruin this moment. This perfect moment that we reached _together._ I hold him tighter.

 

**Simon**

Baz has got me in an iron grip, his fingers brushing my stomach. “You planning to let me go?” I ask, even though I don’t really mind.

He grins, his fangs on full display. “Never.”

“Good.”

We lay like that for a while. When the patterns he’s tracing cease, I know he’s fallen back asleep. I can’t, not right now. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I just slept with Baz. The boy I’ve known since I was 11, hated for almost half my life, loved for so long, just let me fuck him, and it was _brilliant._

And so are we.

**Author's Note:**

> [reblog on tumblr ( ﾉ ^ヮ^ )ﾉﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ](http://eroticgropefest.tumblr.com/post/153093518842/never-let-me-go)


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